


The History Books Forgot About Us

by jammeke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammeke/pseuds/jammeke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin leaves Camelot without ever revealing his magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The History Books Forgot About Us

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the following prompt on KMM27:
> 
> _From a 4x02 deleted scene:_
> 
> _Lancelot: Will you ever tell Arthur?  
>  Merlin: I would like him to know, to see just one.  
> Lancelot: What do you think he'd do?  
> Merlin: There's no point in thinking about it. It's never going to happen._
> 
> _Merlin dies or leaves Camelot without ever revealing his magic._

It was a simple bandits' attack. Nothing more, nothing less.

There were no falling branches, no conveniently placed obstacles and no inexplainable but strong, oh impossibly strong gusts of winds. No swords got caught in the undergrowth, no bandits were jerked off their horses by anything other than resilient Knights. Nothing miraculous happened. Therefore, everything happened the way it should have years ago. 

A sword caught Arthur in his side, making him stumble forward, lose his balance. Another blade slashed at his legs, taking him off guard, causing him to crash into the ground, his sword slipping out of his grasp. 

Some Knights tried to step in, protect their Prince. Some almost succeeded. Most didn't even get close.

Helpless, flat on his back with his hands covering the wound on his side, Arthur was unable to move, unable to resist, unable to slash backas a scrawny guy brought down his sword and stabbed him in the stomach, letting go of the sword the moment he realized it would not fall sideways, would stand fierce and unwavering, caught in the flesh of Camelot's Golden Prince.

They laughed at him. Took his gold. Killed his Knights. All of them.

And left him there to die, slowly bleeding out as the sun disappeared behind the tree tops, leaving the land in utter darkness.

  


~*~

  


Merlin found out three full moons later, when Sir Leon rode into Ealdor, red cloak trailing behind him like a shadow, and looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

"How?" was all Merlin was able to say.

"Bandits."

And Merlin knew. Knew he would have been able to stop them. Knew that if he'd had the nerve, he could have saved his Prince. Knew that even if he hadn't told him about his magic, he would have been able to brush off his enemies like annoying flies.

He didn't say anything. Neither did Leon.

"Will you come back?" The Knight eventually asked, Pendragon Red resting on his shoulders and falling down his back.

Merlin stared at the color, mesmerized. Lost in memories and dreams for the future.

"I didn't leave because of Arthur," he eventually said. "I won't return because of him."

"Gwaine could use some company. A reason to stay."

"Is there?" Merlin raised his gaze, looked Leon in the eye. "Under Uther's rule?"

Leon didn't blink. "Why did you leave?"

_Because I couldn't stay._ "Because I had to." _Because I couldn't lie to Arthur's face every day._ "Because my mother needed me." _Because I was waiting for Uther to fall._ "Because I couldn't bear to be by his side." _Not knowing, never knowing._

"What?"

Merlin sent the Knight a sad smile. "You should leave, Leon. Remember me well."

"Merlin."

"Go."

Merlin watched the Knight, his friend, or someone who could have been his friend, ride out of his village, disappear from his life, taking the red fabric of his cloak with him. The color that reminded Merlin of Arthur. The color he would never see again.

He left Camelot because he couldn't bear not to know. And in doing so, he made sure he never _would_ know.

He would never have to see the disgust on Arthur's face. Wouldn't have to see him recoil in shock and anger. Wouldn't have to hear him order the guards to take his servant to the dungeons. And if, perhaps, he would have accepted Merlin's magic, learned to live with it, well, then he would continue to do so, forever, in Merlin's mind, in his fantasies, fantasies that wouldn't die. Dreams weren't as good as reality. But there were two different kinds of reality, two ways the reveal could have gone down. Merlin had chosen the safest option, the one he himself could live with.

Magic wasn't evil.

But those who had it and allowed themselves to be corrupted by fear?

Those might be. A little bit.


End file.
